The Heiress’ Return: Six Brothers at Her Beck and Call (Wynter Quinnell) novel Chapter 1914

As soon as the words left her lips, Antoine walked over. "Ms. Quinnell, do you have a place to stay in Havenia? If not, you're welcome at my place. I have a few spare rooms."

"Mr. Chamberlain, no need to worry about accommodations. And you don't have to call me that—Wynter is fine." She paused. "Please, have a seat. You're one of us, so there's nothing to worry about."

Hearing that, Antoine nodded and sat down on Wynter's other side. "Alright, then. I've made a decision—I want to hand over the Chamberlain Group to you."

Wynter's fingers froze in midair. "There's no need for that. You should run it. I came to Havenia to check in on the Chamber of Commerce's old members, not to take over anyone's resources. I just wanted to see how everyone's doing."

But Antoine shook his head. "That's not what I meant. You've only just arrived in Havenia. Whatever you plan to do, you'll need capital and connections. Besides, I'm getting old. It's about time I stepped into the background.

"Mr. Quinnell Senior sent us to Havenia back then to lay a foundation for the Chamber of Commerce. The Chamberlain Group is solidly mid-tier right now, but I believe it could rise to the top under your leadership."

"Mr. Chamberlain, I came to Havenia this time to avoid the spotlight, not seek it. However, I appreciate the offer." She motioned toward Dalton. "Besides, when it comes to money and resources, he has more than enough."

Antoine followed her gaze. He'd already taken notice of Dalton when Wynter first arrived—unassuming in looks, but with an unmistakable presence that left a lasting impression. Still, Wynter's comment left him puzzled.

"I know he's your fiance, and he may have done well for himself in Cascadia, but here in Havenia, none of those connections carry weight. You know how people are—many here resent anyone from Cascadia. Some even call them 'mainland dogs.'"

Wynter casually tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. "Mr. Chamberlain, his surname is Yarwood. He's from the Yarwood family of Sorzada City."

Antoine suddenly sat upright. "The Yarwood family of Sorzada City?"

Wynter nodded. "That's right. He's the current head of the family."

Antoine knew very well what it meant to be the head of the Yarwood family. Even the name Yarwood alone carried enough weight to command respect across Cascadia. Even some major corporations in Havenia had heard of the name before.

As the saying went, one should never mess with the Yarwoods. No one was their match in wealth, power, or connections.

Hearing that he was the head of the Yarwood family, Antoine couldn't help but look utterly stunned. He quickly reached out a hand toward Dalton. "I never imagined I'd meet the legendary head of the Yarwood family. I sincerely apologize if I offended you."

Dalton looked up slightly and extended his right hand. "It's fine. At the moment, I'm only her partner. I'd prefer it if you didn't reveal my identity."

Antoine nodded firmly. "Understood. Your secret is safe with me."

Wynter rested her chin on her palm with casual elegance. "Mr. Chamberlain, now you understand, don't you? Just focus on running your business well—no need to overthink things."

"It's just… I've been worried ever since the last incident. If foreign investors launch another attack and crash the market again, everything we've built over decades could collapse overnight."

Wynter's eyes were calm and cold. "If they dare come again, they won't be leaving."

Antoine felt a weight lift from his chest. "You truly are Mr. Quinnell Senior's descendant. With you in the Quinnell family and the Chamber of Commerce, it's more than enough."

Many said Wynter reminded them of Gordon when he was young. Only Wynter herself knew that there was no comparison to be made between them.

Gordon's generation paved the way for those who came after, defended the nation, and sacrificed themselves for the greater good. It was no exaggeration to say that the glory of the present would not exist without that generation's sacrifice.

That saying still held true today.

Peace wasn't a given—it was the result of countless men and women standing guard at the borders day and night, silently holding the line against outside forces. What seemed like calm was carried on the backs of those who endured without complaint, though most never saw it.

Wynter's eyelids lifted slightly. "By the way, Mr. Chamberlain, Wolf will continue staying with you after the banquet ends. He's well-trained, so he'll keep you safe."

Antoine paused. "Alright. With Wolf around, I'll sleep easier. If it hadn't been for him during that incident a while back, I doubt we'd even be here talking today."

Just as he finished, the banquet began to wind down, and Driscoll's voice rang out through the hall.

"Ladies and gentlemen, it's getting late. That concludes tonight's banquet. Thank you all for attending. If we're lucky, we'll host you again soon." He gave a slight bow, then turned to walk toward the doors with Celestine, ready to see the guests off.

After ushering the guests out, only Wynter's group remained in the hall.

Driscoll walked over to them, informing Wynter, "Ms. Quinnell, your suite on the top floor has been prepared."

Wynter accepted with polite grace. "Thank you, Mr. Maynerd. I appreciate it."

Mt. Dracorite's leaders approached as well to bid farewell. "Ms. Quinnell, we'll take our leave for now. If you ever find time to visit Mt. Dracorite, just send us a message ahead of time. We'll come pick you up."

Wynter gave a small nod. "If I do, I'll let you know in advance."

Elgan nodded. "We'll look forward to welcoming you."

After they left, Driscoll turned to Antoine with a sidelong glance. "Antoine, after the banquet began, I thought you weren't going to make it."

Antoine smiled. "An invitation from you, Mr. Maynerd? Of course, I had to come. There was a hiccup on the way here—that's why I arrived a bit late. Thankfully, I was not too late."

Driscoll chuckled. "It's been a long time… Has it been nearly five years now?"

Antoine paused. "Yes, time flies. Everyone's been busy with business."

Driscoll gave a knowing smile. "I may have had one drink too many tonight. Let's find another time to sit down together, just the two of us."

Antoine nodded in response. "Absolutely. If I'm free, I'll be there."

By then, Deven had already pulled the car up front. Seeing this, Antoine continued, "Mr. Maynerd, we'll meet again soon. I'll take my leave for now."

Driscoll hummed and offered, "Let me walk you to your car."

The two of them headed out together.

Ingrid glanced at Wolf, thinking he'd be staying behind, then turned to Wynter. "Well then, I'll head out first. Next time, I'll take you on a proper tour of Havenia."

She had just taken a step toward the door when Wynter spoke up. "Ingrid, Wolf will be heading back with you. Take care of him for me."

Ingrid paused, her expression changing. "Wolf's coming with me?"

"Yes. I just need a word with him first."

Hearing that, Ingrid quickly nodded. "Alright, I'll wait for him in the car."

Once Ingrid left, Wynter lowered her gaze to Wolf. "Behave while I'm gone. I'll come to see you when I can."

Wolf gave a small nod. "Got it, Boss."

She reached out and ruffled his head. "Protect Mr. Antoine. Your smartwatch has both my number and Mr. Leprechaun's. If anything happens, send a message to us or make a call."

Driscoll drew in a long breath. "Yes. There've been whispers—foreign powers are forming alliances, planning a full-scale economic assault on Havenia. They want to seize control of our financial systems and choke us at the source.

"Some of the chaos we've seen lately may be tied to them. When there's money backing a move, people will go to extremes to get a piece of it. That hunger has pushed Havenia into deeper and deeper disorder.

"I was born in Havenia, but my roots are on the mainland. The Maynerd family's creed has always been four words—never forget your roots.

"I'm not like many others in Havenia—I've always seen it as a true part of Cascadia. And I have zero tolerance for foreign provocation. But a head-on confrontation might be a fight we can't win. All I can do is push back as hard as I can with the means I've got."

Wynter glanced sideways at him. "I understand what you're saying, Mr. Maynerd. We'll keep our eyes on this."

As Dalton lowered his gaze slightly, a few strands of hair fell across his forehead. His striking profile was impossible to look away from. "A few washed-up opponents won't stir up any real storm."

Having the confidence of the Yarwood family's head, Dalton was utterly unmoved by Driscoll's concerns. For him, only two people in the world truly mattered—Wynter and Theo.

Driscoll rose and gave a slight bow. "Hearing that, I can rest easy. It's getting late. Let me walk you upstairs."

The three of them moved toward the elevator. Accessing the top-floor presidential suite required a separate keycard. As Driscoll swiped it with a soft beep and pressed the floor button, the elevator began its slow ascent.

Once they arrived, Driscoll led them to the suite entrance. "This entire floor is closed off for the night, so no one will disturb your rest. I'll take my leave here."

Wynter nodded. "Alright."

The spacious suite was equipped with everything one could need.

As soon as they stepped inside, Dalton quietly turned and closed the door. He reached one hand behind Wynter's head, the other wrapped around her waist as he pressed her gently into the corner.

"Now it's just the two of us," he murmured.

The move came so suddenly that Wynter didn't have time to react. Dalton was already close—too close. Their breaths tangled in the narrow space between them.

A faint blush crept onto her cheeks. "Dalton…"

"I'm right here." His voice was low and hoarse, like a cat pawing at her, hooking her soul.

He freed one hand, slender fingers tracing lightly along her neck's silk-smooth skin, as if inspecting his prize for freshness and flavor.

In this moment, all elegance fell away—he was a beast, newly unchained. His touch slid lower, trailing down her slender, porcelain-white neck.

The sensation tickled Wynter. Her throat moved as she swallowed.

A tremor ran through Wynter, and she shut her eyes. Against her chest hung a cold, dew-damp emerald pendant. At her back was the heat of Dalton's palm.

The contrast overwhelmed her. She tried to resist, to break free from this weightless sensation, but her struggle only excited Dalton further.

He lowered his head, watching her tremble. Wynter was like the finest porcelain—cracked just slightly at the edges, revealing a beauty so fragile and cold, it captivated him entirely. Her pale skin had turned the lightest shade of pink—seductive, radiant—and it pulled him deeper under.

He leaned close to her ear and whispered, "You're gorgeous..."

Warm air brushed over Wynter's earlobe, and a tingling sensation spread through her entire body.